A few hours into the night fly by. Since then, he's had two smoke breaks. One with Leon Cromwell and the other with Sophie Mintz. Business was tended to and handshakes were exchanged. There's not much else he wants to do now.

Mint weighs heavy on his tongue as he overlooks the remainder of his Grave Shadow pack members—Priest Lee and the rest of his alpha soldiers—from the banister of the second floor balcony. In silence, Zeke remains by his side, watching what's going on with him.

He doesn't have a fated mate either. Similar to Jax, there isn't a reason for him to be out there right now, joining Priest Lee and his boyfriend on the floor. Even if he talks with the other alpha soldiers, Jax can tell that things aren't quite there yet. The puzzle pieces don't entirely fit between Zeke and them.

Since he knows this, he takes the chance to touch up on that. He musters up the will to express the words he's been wanting to say.

"Is this job..." Internally, Jax curses at himself for the hesitation. "Is this job still adequate for you?"

It's been a few years since Zeke was selected as his second-in-command. Up until that point, the role had always been reserved for another alpha, the second strongest alpha within the pack. The role of a second-in-command would've gone to Lee's boyfriend had Jax followed tradition.

But instead, for the first time in werewolf history, Jax chose a beta. He chose Zeke. Not everyone was happy about that at first, but he was quick to put them in their place.

That's behind them now. Old news. Still, it doesn't hurt to get updates. To see through to the fact that he made the right decision all that time ago.

"Sir..." Zeke's brow is raised. "There's no doubt about it. The job of being your second-in-command is a massive privilege for a beta such as myself."

Jax has nothing more to say to that. Awkwardly, he turns his head away, ignoring the curious glance Zeke sneaks over at him.

As they return back to their comfortable silence, he notes to himself that Luna still isn't here. She's still a no show lurking from behind the scenes. Just as he wonders when the hell she'll show her face, that's when the fireworks erupt.

Fireworks.

They occur outside, beyond the reaches of the second floor and into the horizon. An explosion of colors ignites with a loud bam, their blazed lights showering the dark canvas of the midnight sky in blues, whites, and golds.

Everyone scatters to witness the gorgeous view. Some shift into their wolf forms to leap up the stairway and witness them pop off, joining where Jax and Zeke are. Meanwhile, others bust past the glass doors on the first floor, eagerly catching them burst and burn out in the courtyard.

Luna certainly has a flare for the dramatics.

Several more minutes trickle by, with the fireworks fizzling to an end. As the show comes to a close and the crowd returns inside the ballroom, her voice rears its way back into their ears.

"Attention, all wolves," Luna announces. "I request that the top alphas of all six packs and their priests of Luna meet at the bottom first floor."

A hush of murmurs swarm overhead as her designated guests, Jax and Lee included, make their way over.

To the right, there Cyrus stands, alongside Alpha Karja Crassus of Hellhounds and Alpha Hunter Thatcher of Slay Saber. Cyrus's fated mate, that redheaded omega girl he'd been dancing with earlier, remains rooted by his side. She appears composed, her golden eyes glistening with quiet anticipation.

To the left, Jax squares his shoulders and tilts his head up, facing forward alongside Alpha Leon Cromwell of Lumare and Alpha Sophie Mintz of Frosthide.

Lee, in the meanwhile, is visibly nervous next to him. He's damn near hyperventilating; his knees wobble so hard that it's a miracle he's even standing.

"Relax," Jax orders. "Don't pass out on me."

"Sir, this is the all-powerful entity that gives me my powers. I can't."

He supposes there's no refuting that.

Just then, a sparkly blue ornament ball drops down from above and lands across from them with a pop. Clouds of white vapor spew out from the ball, rapidly filling the air. But as Jax covers his nose, he realizes that it's harmless smoke. Nothing hurts, nothing more than a decorative smoke bomb.

As the smoke dissipates, a glass throne comes into view, with jagged spikes jutting out from the back and molded into the shape of a sharp crown. The throne is boosted up by an elegant crystal staircase imbued in a white glow. And sitting all the way up the top, a feminine figure emerges from the fog.

Everyone waits with bated breath as Luna finally reveals herself.

They expect her in the form of a wise and mature woman, with long blonde hair that halts at her waist and piercing blue eyes that stare from beyond. From what they've seen, the statues and illustrations that project her image are tall and regal, depicting a face that's fair and sharp. High cheekbones and an upturned nose are carved into stone and paper alike.

What they actually get is a fair-skinned girl with barely any meat to her bones. Her limbs are more like sticks, her face more heart-shaped, her lips more thin and dry. She rises from her seat, revealing her short stature, and literally looks down at her most powerful lycan subjects, her alphas and her priests.

And while everyone else stares back up at her in visible shock, while even Jax is stunned speechless, he hears a voice chime at an inopportune time.

Out of all the top alphas to speak, it's Cyrus that goes first. And when he opens his big fat mouth, he erupts into a fit of laughter, like the unhinged psycho that he is. All eyes dart over to him as he continues to laugh. He laughs and laughs, stirring tides of discomfort across the entire ballroom floor.

In eerie silence, Luna glares at him, waiting for him to finish. She can do just about anything, given the capacity of her magic thus far; but at this moment, she chooses not to. Jax almost admires her for such a feat. He could never.

"You're Luna?" Cyrus exclaims, once he's managed to catch his breath. His laughter has finally ceased, ebbing away and replaced with a grin of disbelief. "You? You're just a little girl!"

He practically wheezes at that, a hand clutching his stomach as he tries to not double over. His fated mate, otherwise known as the poor omega girl cursed to be his partner for life, tries to shush him, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Jax and everyone else gape at him in mute horror.

"You look like you could be my daughter!" Cyrus crows recklessly, even more laughter threatening to overtake his words of humor. "And I'm not even that old! But I certainly look older than yo–"

"Enough," Luna cuts in. Just from her tone alone, everyone can feel the remnants of her patience vanish into nothingness.

Jax can't say that he didn't expect this next part to happen, but he still reels back in surprise when a magical hand, transparent to the eye and ghostly in nature, is suddenly summoned to slap the shit out of Cyrus.

Smack!